


Under Pressure

by haleyesido (ssleif)



Series: Witcher Omorashi Stuff [2]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Aftercare, D/s elements, Humiliation, Jaskier says stop, Kink Negotiation, Knotting, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Omorashi, Watersports, and Geralt would have accquiessed in a heartbeat, and he is fine with it, and if he wasn't, at the end, because apparently I just assume Geralt has a knot At All Times now, but they have clearly played around with consensual nonconsent before, he would have made that clear, which i forgot to tag for, which is obvious from the schmoopy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:08:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24084862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ssleif/pseuds/haleyesido
Summary: Geralt and Jaskier engage in some marathon sex, not exactly considerate of Jaskier's all-too-human-needs... like a rest... or a chamberpot...
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Witcher Omorashi Stuff [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1737613
Comments: 14
Kudos: 250





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Plowing Fertile Fields](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23859658) by [badwolfbadwolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/badwolfbadwolf/pseuds/badwolfbadwolf). 



> For the nonny over at [badwolfbadwolf on tumblr](https://badwolfbadwolf.tumblr.com/post/616139656593031168). 
> 
> Wolfie isn't really into pissfic for pissfic's sake, but I totes am. Feel free to hit me up with any further thoughts in this area, though you can see I'm much more likely to lean into the Omo side than the humiliation or watersports side. But if that's something you're interested in... or any of the rest of you reading this... please come hit me up @ [HaleHaveToGoSometime on Tumblr ](https://halehavetogosometime.tumblr.com)
> 
> Anonymous to badwolfbadwolf: How, uhm... do you feel about pee? 😳 Specifically about Jaskier being forced so wide by the Witchers' knots that he looses control over his bladder, crying in shocked humiliation as he dribbles onto the sheets -or, alternatively, Vesemir putting Geralt into his place, knotting him with his ass up, presenting like a bitch in heat, and Geralt pisses himself as a gesture of total submission to his pack alpha
> 
> \--
> 
> So I can totally get behind the first one, except I’m less about the multiple witchers thing... but like, if Witchers go into rut or something, wolf school witchers at least, or are susceptible to aphrodisiacs, and they’ve got knots, so it’s like…

It was about to be the third round, in under two hours, and Jaskier was reaching his limit. 

“C’mon Geralt, I just need a little break. Aren’t you tired yet? Lets just pause and get a drink and—” and Jaskier gasped as Geralt shoved his half-inflated knot back in again. He panted, and squeezed his eyes shut, still not used to the stretch, he’d never be used to the stretch, not if they kept this up for the next decade at least- 

Something cold touched his face, and Jaskier fluttered his eyes open to see… Geralt was offering him the pitcher from the bedside table. While still fucking him.

Well. He was thirsty. 

He propped himself up on his elbows as best he could to drink, and the cool water that inevitably spilled felt delicious against his overheated, and sticky, skin. But this still wasn’t solving the problem of…

“Geralt” Jaskier panted, dropping down flat again, and letting the Witcher take his weight. “Geralt. I- I am sincere- ah- I think we should- ah- have a small reprieve and-”

Geralt simply tilted Jaskier’s hips and fucked him harder. Jaskier tensed his legs around Geralt’s waist in self defense, and braced his hands on the wall at the head of the bed, trying -not to-

“Geralt! Damnit. I mean it! I- ah- I need a minute-” 

Geralt paused. Jaskier started to pull his legs back, but the witcher _slid his shoulders under one_ , got back up high on his knees, practically bending Jaskier in half like a pretzel, and started in again. 

Jaskier cried out at the pressure, and shot one of his hands down to grab himself and create a physical barrier. Geralt ignored the dramatics and kept working away. Jaskier could feel the knot swelling, catching at his rim on every stroke now. He needed to get free now or-

“I need to piss! Geralt!” Jaskier kicked him a little, digging a heel in to get his attention, and _that_ move was nearly his undoing as he had to tense his abdominals to do it, but it was in vain anyway because-

Geralt caught his gaze, and slammed home the final time, settling into the knotting grind. Jaskier gasped, and gripped himself as hard as he thought he could stand, and looked away, desperately trying not to leak… but there was So. Much. Pressure. And it kept increasing, as Geralt’s knot kept swelling.

Geralt, still not looking away, released his hip with one hand, slid it over to the Bard’s crotch, forcing his hand away and lacing their fingers. Jaskier cried out again as a small spurt shot from his dick and trickled towards his chest. Jaskier swallowed his embarrassment, since this was going to happen anyways, clearly, and met Geralt’s eyes again, just as the Witcher, still maintaining that deep firm rocking and grind, gods how much bigger was he going to get, began to slide their joined hands up Jaskier’s body. Cruelly crossing the visible swell of the bard’s bladder, forcing another pathetic trickle , Geralt firmly pressed the heel of Jaskier’s own hand into the tiny puddle gathered in his navel, and then higher, following the wet trail through his previously only sweat-damp hair, finally deviating at his collar bone, lifting free, and pushing Jaskier’s arm up above (or below) his head.

“Well bard, all that complaining for nothing?”

Jaskier was teetering, dripping, could feel tears welling at the strain, the humiliation. But Geralt had slowed, barely moving. Maybe, maybe he would make it. Surely not for very long, but—

And then Geralt thrust once, hard, cruelly pitching his hips just right, and Jaskier felt his knot like a fist to the bladder.

And he just couldn’t.

He didn’t burst like a bubble, but more like a sponge, wave after wave squeezed from him, covered him, covered them both, and the linens too, and Geralt just grinned like something wild and hungry, and shut his eyes in pleasure as he began to refill the bard from the inside. 

When it was finally done, and Jaskier was limp with relief, face burning, trying very hard not to think about the puddle they lay in, Geralt spoke again.

“Was that okay, Jaskier? I didn’t, you didn’t say—” 

And Jaskier _hadn’t_ said, hadn’t used the out he always knew he had when they played like this. He, well. He hadn’t thought Geralt would push it _quite_ so far, but, since he _had_ …

“I’d rather not get it in my hair next time?” The back of his head, not that one, was uncomfortably damp thanks to the angle of the, uh, runoff, “Or on the bed. We’re going to have to pay extra for this one, if we ever want to come back to this inn again.”

“But it was…”

Jaskier sighed, and smiled, owning up to his own pleasure.

“Yes Geralt. I liked it, it was. Well. It was very good.”

Geralt smiled, a real proper true smile, and gave an experimental tug. The knot was down just enough, and well lubricated, so Geralt popped free, and immediately pulled back, allowing Jaskier to relax his legs properly. Geralt nudged him over onto his side, and spooned up behind him, his free hand immediately shooting back down across Jaskier’s filthy belly to snug behind his balls, play with the wet and slick that had dripped there. 

Jaskier groaned, and his dick made a valiant effort to get hard again, even though he’d already come twice earlier in the evening, during the first few rounds. 

Indeed, perhaps had he been able to get hard still, he might have been able to hold out a little longer.

But… he had to admit, release like that was nearly as good as an actual orgasm, complete with a pleasant warm burn deep in his core, muscles well-used, now relieved.

And they were absolutely gonna have to do something about the state of the bed.

In a minute.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not a cutscene from Badwolfbadwolf’s most recent sex pollen fic… but I may have been immersing myself in that fic while writing this… so it almost Could be a cutscene from Badwolfbadwolf’s sexpollen fic… so like, if you dig lots and lots of dubcon (but really consensual)knotting sex... go check out that fic... ;)


	2. oh look there's more

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the little piece that was inspired by the Other half of that ask. XD Not Technically another chapter, but they go together, so i'm going to stick it here. sorry if that causes confusion!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this A Note? Is it part of the fic? who can say. 
> 
> SO Also I thought about the other half, and while I’m a multishipper, I been in a real Geraskier space for a bit… but also I don’t want there to be an imbalance of Jask pissing himself on AO3 so I gotta add some Geralt. So what if the pissing in submission thing is the norm, witcher roughousing, Vesemir puts a stop to it, scruffs them, and they urinate to pay respect to the hierarchy? And years after, it’s not like an issue for Geralt cuz fuckin no one dominates a Witcher anyway, outside of Kaer Morhen… but he gets involved with Jaskier, and maybe they’re playing at D/S stuff one night and Jask puts him in his place a bit and he just, he just goes. And he tries to stop as soon as it registers what he’s done but he’s _going_ and he _can’t_ and he just freezes, blood pressure as close to through the roof as it gets for Witchers, completely mortified, mostly wishing a wraith would materialize on the spot and kill him so he’d never have to look Jaskier in the face again…

“Geralt.”

Geralt won’t look at Jaskier.

“Geralt, what’s wrong? What’s… oh.”

He might throw up. No magic or monsters can make him, but this, now, he might just throw up, and add to the mess.

“Are you, are you okay?”

He’s not, he’s _still going_ , fuck.

“Hey, hey,” Jaskier shuffles closer on the bed, avoiding the spreading wet spot, kneels up in front of Geralt and gently cups his face, tilting it so he’s forced to meet his eyes, “hey, hey, it’s okay. You’re okay.”

Geralt strains, trying to look away.

“Hey, Geralt, look at me, you’re still good.”

“… m’not.”

“Oh baby, you are, it’s okay. Come here.” He’s tugging Geralt higher up the bed, legs still wet, but no longer kneeling in his puddle. Geralt wants to resist, thinks he _should_ resist, he’s so bad, he’s ruined their game, and he’s ruined the bed and this is Not the stone and dirt of Kaer Morhen, damnit, he’s more civilized than this, or he should be, Jaskier shouldn’t have to put up with, with some kind of _animal_ , some kind of, of-

“Hey,” Jaskier says, nudging the Witcher out flat, pulling the white head into his lap, “none of that. I know you’re beating yourself up, come on. Please stop.” 

Geralt doesn’t know why Jask is being so good about this, but he selfishly turns his head and buries his face in thin blanket across Jaskier’s thigh.

For a few minutes, they stay like that, Jaskier petting, and Geralt calming down. Once the Witcher’s breathing is once more it’s normal slow steady rhythm, Jaskier breaks the silence again. 

“It’s okay, we’re still okay, but I want to understand. Can you tell me what happened?”

Geralt was silent a moment longer, resisting. But it was the least he owed Jaskier.

“Pissed myself.”

Jaskier sighed a little.

“Technically you wet the bed, not yourself,” Geralt went rigid again, “no, no, I’m sorry, that was flip.” His thumb dug gently into the tense muscle at the base of Geralt’s neck, and Geralt couldn’t suppress a little shiver of pleasure. 

“I’m sorry Geralt. Let me be more clear. Can you tell me why you had that reaction? And what about it is bothering you so much?”

Geralt mustered his courage, and admitted: “I ruined it.”

Jask kept up the gentle motions of his thumb, up and down alongside Geralt’s vertebrae.

“If you mean the blankets? Possibly, although this inn is not that nice and I’m sure they’ve seen worse. But if you mean the scene? Us? What we were doing? Then no.” Geralt finally looked up, incredulous.

“Was that unexpected? Sure. Did we need to pause to evaluate? Absolutely. Are things ruined forever? I sincerely hope not.” Geralt looked down again, “but I don’t like it when you feel bad, so I’d like to understand. Can you tell me what triggered that? Or, was that the first time that’s ever happened?”

“No.” Geralt ground out, only slightly muffled.

“No you can’t tell me? Or no it’s not the first-”

“Not the first.” Okay, Jaskier wasn’t going to let this go, so it looked like Geralt was just gonna have to get it over with. “No. It’s not. The first time. Before…” Melitele, it was hard. “At Kaer Morhen. With Vesemir.”

Jask hummed a little, and deepened the pressure on Geralt’s tense shoulders as a reward.

“Is it, like, a Witcher thing? Do the others…?”

Geralt shrugged a shoulder. 

“It’s a. It’s about respect. Hierarchy. V’smir is the leader. We… “ gods, he was gonna tell Jaskier everything, “We get rough some times, always, since we were boys. Sometimes someone has to break it up. When you, when you acknowledge, when you submit. That’s. It’s about…” he couldn’t…

“Respect, you said? And since you were boys… So it’s an instinctive thing?”

Geralt hmm’d his assent. 

“And it’s never happened outside of, of the pack of you? At Kaer Morhen?” Jaskier was clearly fishing, but he was also absolutely right.

Geralt nodded.

“Do you think, because you’ve never played with anyone like this? It’s a dominance thing?”

Geralt thought, and nodded. That fit.

“And your reaction, was it just because you didn’t mean to? And you were afraid you’d ruined something?”

Geralt didn’t respond.

“I need some words here, Geralt, I need to know what’s going on for you.”

Geralt forced himself to speak, knowing it was true. 

“It was bad.”

“Something other than the mess? Or me being upset? Both of which I hope we’ve addressed?”

“I was bad. I shouldn’t.”

Jaskier had gentled the pressure, was now making long broad strokes soothing up and down the length of Geralt’s back he could easily reach.

“It wasn’t your fault though, right? It was subconscious? Or did you actually do it on purpose?”

“… no. Couldn’t. I couldn’t control…”

“Ah, but you know I normally like helping you lose control, right?”

Geralt knew that, but still, Jaskier shouldn’t have to-

“You shouldn’t have to-”

“Ah, ah. I get to decide what I like, and what I want to do, right? And you get to decide what you like and what you want to do?”

Geralt begrudgingly nodded.

“So if I say that it’s okay, that you’re okay. That I still like you, and want to take care of you sometimes, and I’m not mad, and you haven’t ruined anything between us…?”

Geralt shrugged a little.

“Geralt. Look at me.” Geralt did. “Do you believe I tell the truth?” Geralt nodded. “You believe I like it when you lose control in other ways?” Cautiously, Geralt nodded again. “Then believe this. The fact that you pissed the bed does not bother me. We’re gonna have to clean it up before we sleep, but it doesn’t bother me. In another situation, it might even have been fun.” Geralt eyebrows shot up. “Come now, you know I’ll try most things. Geralt.” Jaskier was looking so serious. “The only thing that bothered me, is that you were upset, that your were uncomfortable in a way you didn’t ask for. Do you believe me?”

Geralt… Geralt did. He nodded.

Jaskier let out a breath.

“Good. Excellent.” 

Jaskier let them both relax a moment more, before he insisted they strip the bed.

It could have gone much worse.

And now the initial humiliation was over… well. Well maybe. Maybe there was some potential there, after all, Geralt thought. It truly wasn’t so much More than many other things they had done. And maybe, if Jaskier didn’t mind, if Jaskier maybe even liked it… maybe he was okay. Maybe Jaskier was right. Again.

… Maybe the bard’s ego didn’t need that help just now. 

Geralt would let it go for a while, before he brought it up again.


End file.
